Contradictions
by Introvertedraccoon94
Summary: The soul of Akasuna no Sasori, a puppet who died with his defeat, remained trapped within his wooden confines. Lonely and dejected, could the arrival of a similar heart save him from himself? Or will life's contradictions help bring about their downfall?
1. Trapped within himself

_There was once a little puppet,_

_left in the ground to rot._

_Broken and abused, _

_the importance he forgot._

_As alone in his solemn world, _

_regret-filled and despaired,_

_found by a broken hearted girl,_

_who's hearts they both repaired._

* * *

><p>Darkness. Silence and darkness.<p>

No sense of being; it left his will floating into nothingness, his soul long gone. Yet his body left behind developed a copy soul, just like all human puppets in his long-lost collection.

There was no physical sense: no sight, nor smell, nor touch, nor taste, nor hearing. No mental sense as he could no longer think or frown upon his predicament; his mind just as blank as his being. However his spiritual sense and his emotional sense remained inside the wooden corpse as he distantly felt the souls of the living. His whole being reeked of sadness. His proceeding soul left the body filled with regret and despair.

An epitome of the wasted life he left behind. His forgotten purpose.

The broken puppet left behind by Akasuna no Sasori, as his soul joined the departed, lay wasted in the cavern to the parents' blades. Waiting, no matter how much his predecessor hated it, waiting.

A few months had past until something odd happened.

He had a thought.

'_It's my time.'_

True to his words, it was the beginning of a process that would allow him to rise up and better himself.

He felt a soul. A large soul transitioned near him. The soul cried out to him, sharing the same loneliness and regrets that he himself stored away. And through their similarities, a spiritual bond was created. Bound to be together even after death, stretching their arms to become one. Wanting to break the barrier set out between the two. Even as the puppet still lingered between life and death.

Months passed and the body of Sasori could produce more complex thoughts. He began thinking about his situation, wondered what was outside of his soulless eyes, and even began to question how he developed thinking in the first place. The more he thought, the more his mind opened up and allowed himself to glimpse into his own memory. An old woman. Two puppets. A longing. Was this his regret? Was this what he lost?

His memories darkened the more he remembered. His killings brought about by emptiness. His joining of the criminal organization that sparked his downfall. How he used his art to try and become eternal unlike his lost parents which, he discovered, was the main cause of his being trapped in the prison body in the first place.

Another month passed and he felt his mahogany finger twitch.

'_Wait, I **felt**?'_

His physical senses had started to develop while his body slowly lost it's slumbering powers. He became less dormant as the days moved on, even if he could only really twitch.

But feeling? In a sense, no. Wood cannot feel. Yet he could feel his body moving. A contradictory internal sense of touch.

The spirit still lingered. He long ago figured out that someone was fixing him, he could feel their soul moving against his torso. He wished he could reach out to them, communicate to them. The loneliness bursting forth from his now beating heart. The bond set months ago, now ironed down a long chain connecting the two souls spiritually.

This person. He wanted to see him.

He could hear now. The clank of metal, the clink of wood against wood. He guessed he was in some form of a workshop – being repaired by a fellow brethren who could wield the puppet master jutsu.

Small panting and light humming gave the person's position away. He would lie on the hard surface area and enjoy spending days immersed in the sounds of the workman's hums. In essence, he was being reborn. So, sure enough, he filled his empty heart with the thought of a new father. Desperately wanting some form of human connection.

'_Father.'_

His arm reached out towards the humming and stroked a solid object which he hoped belonged to his father's body. The humming stopped and he heard a small chuckle which made the puppet's heart beat faster in pleasure. Sasori then felt the object knock gently against his arm in tune to the humming. The first time he enjoyed music; harmonizing the conflicting feelings in his heart and opening up his empty world to a broader horizon. He felt as if his being was no longer alone, joined into one with his father. He wasn't alone now.

Woodbine and smoke. The first smells that his nose gifted him with, enhancing the idea that he was in a workshop.

'_It __smells __so __familiar,__'_ he noted as childhood memories came rushing back to him. The parent puppets. So fitting that he remembers them now while being re-created by his new parent.

Another smell wafted into his wooden nostrils. It was a sweet enticing smell that made his puppet body involuntarily turn it's head towards the source.

'_Peaches? __No.__The __smell __is __sweeter __than __that,__'_ pondered the puppet. It was a faint fleeting flavour that gracefully glided into the reminiscent splintered atmosphere.

Honey suckle, blue berries and (the previously noted) peaches.

'_An unusual combination.'_

But the smell still wavered into his nose and puppeteered his mouth open. If he wasn't made of wood, his fleshy tongue would have watered.

"Ah."

A voice. It was a deep, silvery voice that invoked past memories. His father? No, it couldn't be; the humming had not yet ceased.

'_So __it__'__s __mine__,__'_ thought the puppet, shocked that his inner self could break free.

"My…"

The humming stopped and light footsteps pattered gracefully towards the table.

"Yes?" asked the voice, a soft mature yet feminine sound glided through the air, seeping into Sasori's ears like melted honey. His father – a woman? Yet another child's mistake. The voice has a strong cutting edge and a dominance that could only belong to a male.

"…voice," finished Sasori who's lips were moving slowly and solidly due to his incompleteness. His soul could sense his father's smile which echoed onto the puppet, slowly curving up the edges of his still mouth.

Day by day, Sasori repeated two words till they were no longer slurred nor broken, easily heard by his father.

"My father."

Each time his father chuckled ironically as if there was a gap of knowledge in Sasori's thought space.

He could move more freely now, moving his legs upwards and even sitting upright. Though when attempting to stand, his father pushed him down gently and repeatedly said "sit" with his addicting honey-soft voice. Sasori obediently obliged.

Not too long later, his sealed eyes creaked into a small slit.

"I…wa…nt…to…see."

His father stepped towards him and patted him on the arm, allowing Sasori to acknowledge his existence by his side. Sasori's eyes opened further though creaked again, at that time a liquid seeped through the cracks – courtesy of his father.

Snap.

They opened.

His caramel irises flickered towards the first moving focal point within his viewing area. A pair of gentle, soft-looking hands applying a bottle of oil onto his stiff eyelids. Though small and fragile-looking, they were sharp and nimble, quickly scrambling across the side of his face to fix his lopsided ear.

He lifted himself into a sitting position, legs hanging from the work bench while the pair of hands remained attached, pushing his arm back into place with a click. The smell of peach blossom was strong now and the humming dripping louder into his ear. Breath blew across his face, blowing his hair slightly, causing the smell of freshly eaten blue berries to pass him by.

His wooden neck lifted upwards.

A long curtain of hair swept down onto the puppeteer, barring his keen eye onto the view of his father. He would have name the coloured strands 'beige' but the small flicker of candle light showed him the hints of rouge and gold in his father's hair. Warm colours. The hair was tossed aside slightly to allow his father access to other areas that needed repairs. At this moment, Sasori gathered a glimpse of glowing golden orbs, smoldering in the light of the candle.

He should have expected it; he heard the voice every day after all.

The father fixing his broken puppet body was staring at him with caring _motherly_ eyes.

The person was his parent; he was not denied this opportunity. But shockingly, it was not the father he expected.

His father became this honey-voiced, peach-scented, hypnotizing young _woman_.


	2. Her icy fire

Raccoon: Welcome to the second chapter, boys and girls! :D

Sasori: What is this? A _children_'s story?

Raccoon: ? What do you mean?

Sasori: Your vocabulary doesn't extend towards an adult audience.

Raccoon: Le GASP! *faints*

Sasori: ...dammit... I'M NOT CLEANING HER UP!

?: Introvertedraccoon94 does not own Naruto, Naruto Shippuden, or Sasori. But she does own me- Hey, wait a minute! Why don't I have a name?

Raccoon: *slowly rises like a zombie* because I haven't introduced you yet *dies*

* * *

><p>I saw him.<p>

The man I loved in the arms of another woman.

Our wedding, of which had taken months of preparation, wasted over his betrayal. Why did I not notice his selfishness before? His lust; was it not satiated? Why would he do this to me?

Then there is the problem of the backstabbing woman he had his way with. This was the very woman that I had given the title of _**best **__**friend**_. Where was the importance of friendship? Was it jealousy, or just plain maliciousness? Why would she do this to me?

Why would either of them do this to me?

Their ears twitched. They heard me. Though it actually took them much longer to turn around and fully notice my presence.

"I'm sorry, it's not my fault! It's just the way things are!"

"There are plenty of fish in the sea. Just catch another one."

"I love her!"

…excuses.

Unsympathetic, self-satisfying excuses. Really just a rouse to appear just as victimized as I am. Pathetic. They did not want to be the antagonists in the situation, nor did they want me to publicly destroy what little dignity they had left. Pathetic. Both of them; totally drowned in greed. My feelings being totally unimportant.

Pigs. Traitors. Liars.

Should I pity them, the fools, when my heart is slowly breaking? Their fault. It's all their fault. They're totally and utterly _**pathetic**_.

However hard I try, I can't condemn them. She was my friend and he my lover. I still care for them, still love them. We still share bonds. Bonds that are difficult to sever. My heart is hurting; I know that for sure, my hand is clutching at my chest.

Do I really have the right to be naming them 'fools'? The person who loves a fool, is the bigger fool, after all. To end up in this situation was inevitable, I could have avoided it.

Pathetic? Yes I am.

And so, with my heart sharply cracking and thoughts thumping painfully in my maze of a skull, I cowardly fled from the scene of the incident. My trust now lost forever.

Pathetic.

But I cannot forever remain pathetic.

My heart is cracked, not shattered, and I will not allow it so. I must retain my strength. It hurts; but I refuse to cry, I refuse to break, I refuse to stoop to such Havisham levels. I will not allow them the pleasure. The cracks in my heart will remain frozen and untouched, no need to break again. I won't allow emotions out or in, no one shall enter the cracks again.

* * *

><p>A year has past since the incident.<p>

That is all it is now to me. Just an incident.

My lost fiancée and my so-called best friend have neither talked to me, nor attempted contact. It seems as if they've lost interest with me. Who cares.

My only regret lies in the many years, that I wasted my time, infatuated with that man. The friendship wasn't very productive either. I should have spent my years progressively, not recklessly rushing in to relationships, only to be deceived.

The thought caused me to sit up from my workshop chair, a small irritated frown drawn onto my face. My eyes flickered around the room sharply, attempting to distract myself from thoughts I no longer wished to pursue.

I was in a dimly lit room, clustered with workshop tools such as: spanners, screw drivers and carving knives, as well as other materials that I used to work with, prominently blocks of wood and scraps of metal. Puppets hung from the walls, whilst unfinished projects lay dejectedly in various areas on the floor. There was a small desk, which inhabited scraps of paper carrying designs and documents, and a prominent table in the centre of the room, of which I made the puppets on. As you could probably by now tell, I was in my workshop.

My grandfather was a puppeteer, and he showed me all the techniques that I used today. After a short period of time under his teachings, he became absent for the need to travel, and an old woman visited to polish off my skills. She was both a crafty fox and a wrinkled prune, though her name escapes me. She told me that puppeteering was something that I had a talent for.

This did not mean that I learned _just_ to become talented – after all, such a person would not keep this talent secret. It was a _hobby_ and, for a short time in my childhood, a means to _escape_. I believe this was the same for the woman. Against her knowledge, I did catch her glancing wistfully out of the window. Puppeteering was an art to fill up a space that became missing in one's life.

The workshop I used was underground. I, however, lived above ground. The upstairs was a place I only utilized for necessity, I rarely ventured above my underground haven. There was a living room and a dining room merged together, as soft sofa-like chairs were used on the table and shelves of books were scattered about the place. The kitchen was small and clustered, barely being any space to squeeze in all the appliances. The bedroom and bathroom were higher up in my home, both being a lot more spacious than the areas downstairs.

And all of this was stored in the belly of a miniscule cottage, located on the edge of a forest (in a space of uninhabited land) not too far from a village. It is a wonder that the cottage hasn't collapsed in on itself…

Back to reality, I attempted to distract myself by venturing upstairs and making some tea. My adventure was prolonged, however, when I opened the cupboard to, not only to _**not**_ find tea, but to have a splurge of dust cover my exasperated face. Time to restock.

I knew a place in the woods that had a plentiful supply of tea leaves. The area only seemed to stock but two types of these leaves, but the sheer quantity was enough to keep me hibernating till winter. It was a place I rarely visited. It filled my head with those stupid memories I try to keep locked away, memories of my ex-fiancée introducing me to this place. Something I could _**definitely**_ do without.

Leaning down to sniff the deep aromatic smell of the leaves, another scent drifted into the air. A violent metallic scent that I knew only too well. The smell of blood.

I dropped my items and speeded towards the direction of the scent. It led me to a giant opened cave, filled with the chilling smell of decay.

The first thing I noticed upon entering the cave was the number of dismembered wooden bodies littering the floor. I couldn't help but admire the craftsmanship of the scattered puppets; so beautiful, so…realistic. If I was not a puppeteer myself, I would have truly believed that this was a grave for decaying humans. Whoever created such master pieces, was a true genius.

Swords lay, dripping red substances onto the floor. The ominous red mixed with purple liquid which, I guessed, was a hand made poison. Limbs and torsos covered the area, giving the appearance of a puppet graveyard. That was, metaphorically speaking, correct. Dead puppets used for a great battle, _that_ I was certain of.

My heart stopped for a minute.

I could feel a soul. Call me crazy, but I could feel one.

It was crying out; calling to me. Such a lost lonely soul. I had the urge to do something and ease the pain of this soul. It almost brought tears to my eyes. _**Almost**_.

Pfft. Please. Like I would waste my time bringing _joy_ and _happiness_ to a random soul that just _appears_ to be upset. If it was so depressed, it should just get back on it's feet and deal with it, not mope around all day.

_'Sorry soul, but I have a hard-assed and cynical reputation to uphold…'_

_'…wait. I'm talking to a **soul**. A piece of mythical airy make-believe, and I'm talking to it…'_

I turned around and walked back a short distance, still in shocked exasperation about my previous venture…

…At that point, I grew curious and turned back around to look for said soul.

This led me to stand in front of a facedown, red headed puppet, held onto the floor by the swords of more…well…puppet-looking puppets.

_'That looks painful,_' I thought as I flipped the red head over, so his back faced the ground.

Earlier on, I believed that the other puppets in the cave were true master pieces. That was before I saw _this_ one. In beauty and craftsmanship, it was clearly the most superior. Soft messy rouge hair caressed it's forehead, covering it's eyes which were sealed tightly shut. It had slightly tanned, yet soft looking skin – a rare trait for both puppets and average human males. It was human. It had to be. There was no way that any puppet could appear so _human_, not even for a master puppeteer such as myself.

Humanity was not too far away from this puppet, I soon found out, as the soul that desperately peaked my curiosity was held trapped within this seemingly dormant puppet.

_'How does someone trap a **soul**, a non-solid entity, inside a mere block of **wood**? That's **insane**!'_

Nevertheless, I reached towards the puppet's face and touched his skin.

You know that moment in life when you touch a certain person, skin-to-skin, and a certain spark rushes through your veins, exciting you and shocking you, yet all together telling you that the person is special? That's what it felt like to me. A magically cheesy moment, and it only happens when I touch a humanoid _plank_. Yes. It's incredibly _creepy_.

At the time, however, I assumed that it was because the skin felt soft.

_'Too soft for a puppet and too hard for a human. Okay, what is he? Some sort of_ **_half-breed_**?'

There was a _connection_. Indeed, there was something we had in _common_.

_'Okay, now I am looking for a similarity between me and something made from **pine**. We both have no mind, that's for sure,'_ I thought exasperatingly, though I still looked for that connection, which frustrated me, and finally I became stumped.

_'If I was a puppet guy,'_ I mused absentmindedly on the floor _'with no ability to move or do anything at all, how would I **feel**? I'd probably be all frustrated because I couldn't get up and there'd be no one around to-'_

I opened my eyes in realization.

"So that's it," I began, my voice hoarse from not being used too much "you're a lonely _fool_, aren't you?"

I knelt down in front of the puppet, one hand up to rest my head on.

"You're a lonely fool looking for another lonely fool to take care of you."

_'Though, judging by the puppet body, I'm guessing that being a lonely **puppeteer **is also a given,_' I thought before I moved my mouth near to his ear.

"Don't tell anyone I'm lonely though. That's a _secret_," I whispered teasingly.

I then proceeded to hoist the puppet up over my shoulder (after removing the swords from his body) and returned back, without wondering whether it was dangerous or whether the puppeteer that made it would seek and collect it. It was broken, and I was the puppeteer chosen to piece it together. No matter how _mediocre_ a puppeteer I am.

Unfortunately, bringing the puppet back home and fixing the puppet were two _entirely_ different problems altogether.

_'This was idiotic of me! Why bother feel determined to fix the damn thing, without actually_ **_knowing_ **how to do it. Now I need to research soul development, and I **_hate_ **paperwork.'

_'The problem in this situation is that I have no idea how to let the soul take over the body, or how to allow the soul the ability of sense. This is made harder due to the fact that this is **not **a situation where a human soul is trapped in a fleshy body. **No**, it just had to be trapped into a **puppet **body!'_

Luckily for me, I had saved some old files that my grandfather and the old woman left behind; both, in the past, had previously experimented on puppet reanimation jutsus. Although they did not succeed, they left a hefty amount of notes behind which could become of _some_ use.

After a while, I processed the notes and added some of my own. I was then ready, yet apprehensive, to start putting my plan into effect.

I first started on the mental sense of the puppet, allowing it to think freely. This was a process to begin all processes as it gave the puppet time to gather it's own personality and memories whilst it was being created.

I applied a small dose of chakra to the back of it's head and, whilst furthering the pressure, turned my chakra to a medically enhanced _green_ colour. This was a more powerful chakra that was designed to rebuild and give life to the undead. Kudos to the guy that colour-coded chakra.

The procedure left me tired afterwards, as the special chakra took a lot out of me. But I smiled as I slept. The first smile I had given for a year. The first smile, given to the success of the first procedure.

A few months later I had gathered up more chakra, as a lot of chakra was needed to create the special green chakra, and I was in the middle of the next step. I was starting to become more dependant, more obsessed, with fixing that thing. Almost as if by fixing the puppet, I could fix myself. This was all false hope, however. I was broken in ways that could not be repaired. I would fix the puppet, leave him be, and live alone again.

_'And that's how it is…'_

This time, I was attempting to return senses to the puppet. Though taste and touch were out of the question for a body with no skin, senses such as sight, smell and hearing were available to the puppet. Somehow.

_'The puppet that can somehow defeat the laws of **physics**. Or **biology**. One of them, anyway.'_

Yet again, I pushed the special chakra into it's body. Occasionally I needed the help of a hand sign or a seal to develop the chakra to suit it's body. On the down side, it took a _freakishly_ long time.

During that time, something shocking happened.

He _**moved**_. Well, _twitched_ is more of the word to describe it. One slim finger, adorning his right hand, twitched upwards for less than a second. It was so quick, I could only catch a glimpse, but it gave me a great feeling of accomplishment. Slowly, but surely, I was getting there.

Days passed and he started twitching more and more often, as if the puppet himself wanted to return to life. He probably did. (Yes, I granted him the gift of terming him as a 'he' rather than an 'it'…he's grown on me.) I was, at this point, granting him the gift of hearing and smell. I never could tell whether he could smell or hear until I brought him to life, yet I believed he could.

My happiest- I mean my most _content_ moment during the fixing of the puppet was when he acknowledged my existence. His arm slowly reached out and _stroked_ my arm one time (not _seductively_, you readers with your innuendo filled minds!) as if he wanted to touch me.

_'Nice try, but you have no nervous system,_' I thought whilst chuckling, fully amused at the puppet's failed attempt to touch my skin.

Just to humour him, I hummed and tapped my fingers onto his arm. I somehow knew that he could sense the taps on his body without having any nerves. Was I correct? Who knows.

Another moment of…erm…great contentment (yeah right) came after I was scoffing my face with fresh forest blue berries. What? They _do_ taste absolutely _amazing_ after all!

A small "Ah" was heard coming from the direction of the puppet. I merely thought it was my imagination until I heard the first coherent word to _ever_ come out of that puppet's mouth.

"My…"

I rushed to his side, eager to hear the first words that would come out of his mouth.

_'Perhaps something to do with his past, or why he was trapped in that puppet body in the first place?'_

After becoming a bit too impatient, I coerced him out with an encouraging (only _sounding_ encouraging to know what he's saying, I'll have you know):

"Yes?"

"…voice," he replied with a strong, silvery voice that had a sense of deepness and power to it. It suggested a strong-willed and determined man. A slight seductive spark from the tone sent a (I am embarrassed to say) slight shiver down my spine.

_'Yes, your **voice**. Well done you stupid idiot, now tell me something useful!'_ I moaned from inside my head. Unfortunately, that was all the puppet contented himself with saying that day, and I felt belittled and ridiculed by that little twitch of a _smirk_ he presented on his face; smugly.

The next few days, though the puppet was developing fast and his voice was becoming less slurred by each day, not a moment passed when the puppet repeated the same words, over and over:

"My _father_."

I became infuriated whenever he said the phrase. It was almost like he was beginning to tell me something about his past, but stopped mid sentence. And he topped it all off with his famous little _smirk_.

_'Don't worry my dear, just think about bringing him back to life, only to chop him up into **fire** wood. Indeed. Winters will not be cold for a long time…'_ at this thought, the same thought I brought up every time the puppet smirked, I chuckled softly yet _evilly_. Well, it sounded evil to me.

His movements started to become more fluid and often I found the puppet trying to stand up. Still angered by his previous incompetence, I often ordered him to lie back down, hopefully making him just as frustrated as me. (Though I believe this wasn't the case, as he obeyed eagerly to my commands. Damn him!)

Finally the day came when I finished my project and he could be gone for good.

"I…wa…nt…to…see," were the starting words to the final process, as I stepped closer to the project whilst accidently patting his arm – eager to get this over and done with.

His eyes creaked open slowly until halfway; it slowed to a stop, making me apply oil to make his eye lids less stiff.

_'Hurry up and go, puppet boy!'_ I urged him, inside my head.

They snapped open. And I stared at a pair of inquisitive, attractive eyes that were busy staring at my working hands. I, somehow, became flustered and hid my eyes behind a veil of hair, anxiously fixing his arm and ear to keep myself preoccupied.

'What _am_ I doing? This has _got_ be his fault, that annoying _twerp_!'

I could tell he was staring at me, trying to freak me out with his…erm…_creepiness_? With some sort of _devilish_ rite, whatever it is, he needs to stop.

_'Wait a minute. I'm not some **coward** who hides behind her hair; I'm not going to let **him** win this! I think I'll let him have some false **preconceptions** of his own…'_

And with that, I faced him head on with a stare of my own. My eyes morphed into a stoic coldness, as my frantic mouth moved into a short frown. I became expressionless. Hidden. _Masked_.

"Kasumi Hiraoka. And you are?"

The puppet man was shocked, I could read his expression loud and clear. His eyes showed both alarm and curiosity, he was clearly in deep thought as he didn't answer right away. The question hung in the air until the puppet man remembered to answer.

"Sasori."

And as the word slid off his tongue, his eyes changed to show a new set of emotions. They glimmered with admiration, gratitude, curiosity, and another emotion that I couldn't quite pick up. Whatever it was, it left his emotional barricade wide open to view.

I had _won_. The earlier behavior may have been annoying and tedious, but it was all really a mask for the gratitude and admiration he felt for my _ability_ to bring him back.

_'That doesn't mean I'm going to go easy on the brute – I'm **definitely** going to find out about how he got stuck into that puppet body, whether he wants me to or not!'_

Before I knew it, without me noticing, something small slipped through the mask I had been developing for the past two years. Not an emotion, but not what one expects from a girl with an icy outer shell and a relatively cold temperament.

Warmth.


	3. His admiration

Introvertedraccoon: Hi, another story up! And sorry about how long it took, I am literally dying of _work_ poisoning!

Sasori: OBJECTION! There is no such thing as work poisoning.

Introvertedraccoon: Oh yeah, prove it!

Sasori: ...I work with poisons...

Introvertedraccoon: ...

Sasori: ?

Introvertedraccoon: *shoots self*

Sasori: *sighs* Raccoon does not own Naruto, Naruto Shippuden, or me. She _would_ own this story, if she wasn't too busy _dying_.

Introvertedraccoon: Oy! I demand sympathy!

Sasori: I thought you were dead.

Introvertedraccoon: *dies*

* * *

><p>I did not expect my mother to be such a complex character. She carried herself in such a cold demeanor; eyes masked behind a void of nothingness, smile of icy coolness. Did she not know how to express herself? Did she not know how to show her emotions?<p>

Did she _have_ any emotions?

In my past, I would have found this a very agreeable trait. Indeed, I found emotions a folly, a nuisance. It was the main reason I became the wooden man I am today. Yet, here I am now, wanting, no, _needing_ her to show me that same warm smile that she shared with me when I came to life. A warm smile, heating me up though I cannot feel. Lighting up a comforting fire inside of my numb self.

And so it became my mission to melt this icy woman, using the same flames that she gave to me. By being there for her, giving her my presence. That has to be what the fire is. If not, may a close relative of mine die. It has to be so.

During my period of rehabilitation, Hiraoka-san watched me closely, helping me. It seemed she desperately wanted to know how I ended up lying on the floor – soul trapped in the body of a puppet.

"I wish I knew too," I told her one evening, after being questioned.

"I created this body for myself; I made myself a living puppet. I have no idea why my soul remained dormant."

As I told her, I was slightly aware that the tone I used made me sound like I was bragging. Like I was proud that I could make myself into a living puppet; which no other puppeteer could do as such.

'Did she think I was _bragging_? _Insulting_ her puppeteering skills? No. I think she understands…'

She didn't talk for a while after that. My guess is that she was thinking about the mystery of my trapped soul. She sure is a hard thinker. Spending days after each little comment I made, thinking in depth over what I said. An admirable woman.

She came to me the next day, a bit of frustration and reluctance flashing for a quick second behind her fixed eyes.

"Your past? Do you remember any of it?"

"Yes, I recollected my memory a few months after you cared for me," I replied, stopping as I thought I saw her biting her bottom lip with an irritated expression on her face. I figured it was just my imagination.

"I was raised in a village known as Sunagakure by my grandmother, a highly respected elder, as my parents were killed during a battle against Konoha," I started before glancing at her again, noticing how focused her golden orbs were on me. A feeling of euphoria rose in my chest, but I quickly continued my rant before I made her wait.

"She was a puppeteer and she told me all she knew. When I reached the age of fifteen, I had perfected the art of making human puppets, which I performed onto my own body. I left the village soon after, taking with me the body of the third Kazekage – the ruler of Sunagakure at the time.

"I then joined a powerful, s-ranked, criminal organization known as the Akatsuki, and perfected my jutsu. Relatively recently, after the capture and murder of the sixth Kazekage, my grandmother and a kunoichi from Konoha managed to kill me in battle."

I ended and peered at Hiraoka-san from underneath my shaggy red fringe. As I expected, she was like a blank page. She rarely showed me anything. That is, when she chooses to become my company. Often she is too busy or doing something else to acknowledge my existence. A busy woman.

I glanced at the volumes that she left around her living room. Well, her living room _and_ dining room. She some how managed to merge the two into one. I'm guessing that she doesn't have many visitors. The books she kept were the only objects in the room that were put into order. Novels, diaries, and informative pieces were packed into wooden shelves that I had no doubt she had made herself.

She seemed to love books. When wandering her clutter of a home, I often found her curled up on either her bed or a sofa reading one. A small contented smile stitched onto her face. Her eyes fascinated with every turn of the page. The occasional graceful flick of her fingers to move her hair out of her eyes…

I'm observing her too much, _that_ I've noticed.

My excuse would be boredom, though I know that is a total lie. Yes, there is barely anything to do, trapped in a house with only books to read and chairs to rest on. I cannot say I am not at all missing the outside world, though I wouldn't have cared at all during my period in Akatsuki. I'm not quite as bored as I thought I would be, she some how is so interesting that nothing _can_ be tedious here.

Back to the subject, my eyes flickered to two books set open and facedown on the sofa. The sofa had a blanket covering a large imprint in the shape of a human. This was where I slept. For now. I didn't want to impose on her too much, but I didn't want to leave until I understood this strange woman. And help her.

My eyes flickered back and locked with hers. They had transformed from her usual vacant expression to a slight hint of thoughtfulness. She was thinking again.

"What's on your mind?" I asked her, hoping that I could give her some advice if possible. Yet again, I lied. I just want to hear her soft voice, like honey. I am a lot more selfish in reality than I thought.

She shrugged her shoulders, in the slightest of movement, and glided back towards her bedroom. This was a relatively normal occurrence. She often avoided my questions, only listening to my answers to questions that _she_ had asked. However, it was not like I had no clue unto what she was thinking. Her thoughts usually encouraged her to return to me with another question; it was through her questions that I could get a glimpse into her mind.

And so, she returned the next day with another question. This time seemed slightly different from the others; a look of reluctance washed over her face like the sudden swallow of lemon juice. Before it flickered back to her usual blankness. It confused me as to why she was suddenly so unyielding.

'What sort of question would make a person like her so reluctant?' I thought.

Hiraoka-san stared at me for a short period of time, before turning her head to look away. A flush of light pink glistened on her cheeks, making her face glow and enhancing her beauty…I echoed that blush.

"…her name…" she spoke quietly, a whisper vibrating in the air, accompanied by the familiar sweet smell of blue berries.

"Who? What?"

…I was slightly flustered. Here I am, _admiring_ her to the point where I actually missed what she said. It's a good thing that Hiraoka-san is a patient woman.

She sighed harshly, without any emotion lighting up her face, and repeated herself.

"The old woman, you told me about before. Do you know her name?"

Though she was talented at keeping her emotions in check, she obviously did not enjoy repeating herself. A mysterious woman.

"My grandmother? Her name was Chiyo."

Her honey-coloured eyes widened ever-so slightly in her dawning realization. It could have been my mistake, but I swore I heard her murmur, "That old fool? No way…" but I highly doubt it. She's more monotonous than a blank sheet of paper.

At least, I think she is.

"Do you know her?" I questioned her. Not expecting a reply, thinking that she'd ignore me like the many times before, I was relatively surprised when she gave an answer.

"Yes..."

…was that it?

"She helped teach me, a long time ago…" she drifted off, reminiscently.

"The puppet master jutsu?" I asked.

She nodded.

I looked at her thoughtfully. Her eyebrows were pulled down slightly on her face; her teeth slowly chewing at her lips. Her fingers flexed nimbly, whilst her fists clenched and unclenched. She was thinking again.

'Why is she so…_perplexed_ at the idea of Chiyo-basan being my grandmother? Has she made some sort of connection?'

Hiraoka-san stopped thinking and, in a sudden movement, rushed back up to her room. A few seconds later, she hurried back down with a small bag on hand. I turned to her to ask her what she was doing, but she breezed past me speedily; moving so fast that the force she created almost knocked me to the floor. What was she doing?

She emerged back up from the steps of her workshop, an assortment of scrolls and ninja tools in her grasp. Throwing her bag onto the table, she began to shove in her equipment.

"What ar-"

"We're leaving," she interrupted briskly, as she strided towards the door, leaving me partially bemused.

"Why?" I asked her, this decision coming seemingly out of nowhere.

Pausing at the door, a ghost of a smile caressing her face, she faced back towards me. Her silhouette illuminated against the outside light, making her appearance seem more mystical.

"If you want to know about your soul, then that woman would be the first person to ask."

I looked at her apprehensively.

'Did she not know that my grandmother once killed me? I doubt that she'd want to see my face again…might give her a heart attack…'

Hiraoka sighed in a sort of frustrated manner. Grabbing my hand suddenly, she dragged me out of the house and into the light of the outside world.

"Come with me," she said.

And that I did.

* * *

><p>Sasori: ...short chapter...<p>

*sound of wind, crickets chirp*

Sasori: Oh, yeah. She died.


	4. The facade she wears

Raccoon: 'Nother chapter. Disclaimer please.

Sasori: My, my; aren't you _lazy_ today?

Raccoon: Me. Tired. Written. Lots. Did. Work. Killed. Hand. Threw. Toaster. Laughing. Cactus. Cannibal. Horse. Sunset. Wee!

Sasori: ... She owns nothing. Not even me. Why am I here then? *Poofs away*

Raccoon: NO! The evil puppet man in my head has left me! What should I do now?

...burn everything?

Raccoon: DON'T MIND IF I DO!

* * *

><p>My long tedious journey to the village of Sunagakure began on a sunny day. The weather was relatively warm; the bright clouds remained stationary in a sky of clear cerulean. Attempting to stifle my boredom, I had thought about making conversation to the man walking next to me, but then I realized that the man, being part puppet, could not care less about the conditions of the weather.<p>

Sasori was a strange person (puppet, thing, whatever). He was almost like a figure in the backdrop; quiet, of no importance, but you always knew he was there. When he spoke, he spoke with a polite answers and a formal tone. Though he twisted his honest words by using a smart-ass voice, and by showing off his _damn _**_smirk_**.

His eyes drifted to me often, almost _daring_ me to try win against him. He was cocky, arrogant, and very much self-centred; yes, he could be like this _without_ even saying a complete sentence.

At least that's what I thought.

A part of me, deep (deep deep) within myself, told me that I was the one twisting him. Almost like I was afraid, and didn't want to face the reality. But there was nothing that I was afraid of, so I overlooked those thoughts.

What surprised me the most, however, was the fact that he shot glances at me whenever he thought that I wasn't looking. And these weren't threatening glares, oh no, these were glances of contemplation, admiration, and…something else. I found some interesting facts about Mister _Criminal__'__s_ reputation, and I _certainly_ did not enjoy those looks he was sending me. The next thing I know, I could wake up one morning with wooden skin – I did _not_ want that.

And so we carried on our journey, me giving my companion wary looks whilst he wasn't looking.

No puppet body for me thanks!

The grass we stood on caressed my knees, which were aching badly from so much walking, and my arms occasionally brushed against the rough bark of the surrounding trees. Sunagakure was a faraway village from my own home, so it would take at least a week to journey there. Joy.

After a while, my stomach let out a vicious grumble that I'm sure much of the surrounding landscape heard. Sasori turned to me with amusement in his eyes, his smirk on full blast whilst he tried to stifle a chuckle. _Okay_, so that was very out-of-character for my emotionless outer character.

"You think you can _contain_ yourself for another hour?" asked Sasori, a small snigger escaping from his mouth.

I frowned.

"I can wait. Unless I come across some food on the way, of course."

Sasori's beige eyes studied me carefully, searching for signs of embarrassment (ergo weakness) in my face. His eyes widened slightly as he backed up and turned around quickly. Well, not before I caught the slight pinkness wavering across his cheeks.

Haha! In your attempt to shame me, you only shamed yourself! Kasumi: one, Sasori: nil.

Luckily for me, we did pass by some food on the way to our first stop. A giant blue berry bush. Did I mention I absolutely _adore_ blue berries? Well now I have.

Hypnotized by the pull of the miniature mouth-watering fruits, I raced to the bush and pushed a dozen into my mouth. Unfortunately, I forgot about the presence of my wooden companion. I erased the expression of euphoria from my face, and slowly turned around to face him.

He stood there with a simple shocked expression drawn onto his face. No smirk was visible, only a slightly gaping mouth in the shape of an 'O'. Whatever he had been expecting, he wasn't expecting this.

"I like blue berries," I stated, hoping to remove the awkward atmosphere from the moment.

Sasori remained still.

"I can tell."

We remained as stiff as statues, as the silence went on for a couple more minutes.

I stood up, brushed myself off, and returned to walking through the dense forest. Sasori slowly followed behind me, his eyes still burning onto my back. He had just gotten his first glimpse of what lay beyond my icy walls...

* * *

><p>We made it to our first stop as it reached night. It was a quiet, slightly disturbing, abandoned town which we could use to get supplies, and to sleep under a shelter. Well, <em>I<em> could sleep in the shelter. Sasori can _rejuvenate_, which was kind of like a puppet's version of sleep, in the shelter.

It was _his_ choice to come here. He made the suggestion when we looked at the maps, and to be fair it was a sensible suggestion. I couldn't say no – I couldn't show any weaknesses. To be honest, if I travelled by myself, I would have avoided this place at all cost. I had heard quite a few rumours that the place was haunted. And I was _not_ a fan of the occult.

'Damn you, Sasori! If I get killed by ghosts in the middle of the night, I will seriously rise up and haunt you for the rest of your life!' I thought bitterly.

If he was in front of me right now, and decided to turn around, he would see my slightly scared expression. But he wasn't, so he didn't have any material to tease me with. I do _not_ want another relapse of that awful little _smirk_ of his.

"How about here?"

My thoughts were cut off by Sasori's question. I looked at where his hand was pointing, and it showed me a large, gothic styled hotel (I don't how they managed to break the fourth wall on the non-Japanese design). It had a tall pointed roof with windows looking out onto the ground, and the bricks had darkened with age. Cobwebs covered the windows, and the door was huge but held sinister scratch marks on the dusty paint. The place looked as if it were once grand, but decayed in abandonment.

Either way…was that a _shadow_ in the window?

Before I could decline, Sasori had already made his way inside the building. I did not want to lose out on him, or make myself look like a coward, so I quickly shuffled after.

Sasori knocked his hand against the door once, and the door creaked open slowly. Almost as if something were pulling it. Sasori made eye contact, glanced back at the door suspiciously, and walked inside in a calm manner. I swiftly followed, though my eyes were some what wide and shivers coursed through my spine.

We walked down the corridor where all the bedrooms were; him with his big strides, me with my small shuffles. He opened a random door and the smell of musk hit me in the face. It was a plain room with a king-sized bed and a well designed wardrobe in the corner. The room was very dusty, the paint on the walls wore away, and the bed sheets were graying. However, the condition of the room was not what creeped me out.

It was almost as if I could feel another presence in the room. A supernatural being or a ghost or something. The atmosphere was chilling and the room abnormally cold. There was a door, unlocked, but I could tell that behind it was something I did not want to see. I was scared.

"This can be your room."

Sasori's voice echoed into my mind like I was in a never-ending tunnel. I couldn't stay here; especially not alone.

But I also could not show Sasori any of my weaknesses.

"Sure," I replied, though I screamed in frustration in my head.

"Okay, I'll meet you tomorrow morning," said Sasori as he turned to leave.

_'No! Don't leave me here! I don't care if you're an arrogant, condescending jerk; just get me out of here!_'

And before I knew what I was doing, I grabbed onto Sasori's shirt.

He turned and looked at me; eyes wide with shock. I looked closely and…is he blushing? He quickly wiped his face clean and looked at me, as if he was expecting me to say something.

_'Oh crap, I grabbed his shirt! Quick, think of something_!'

I looked around in my head for a suitable thing to say, when the excuse slipped easily out of my open mouth.

"Do you think this place has kitchens?"

Sasori told me the answer, paused, and then _smirked_. He was obviously remembering the time when my stomach growled in the forest.

_'Stupid Sasori! Why did I think he could help me? Damn him…_'

I grumbled as I stomped slightly around the hotel corridors. After a while, I realized where I was. And how lost I was.

Standing frozen on the ground, I turn my head both to the right and the left. Noises were made across the floor boards, scuttling sounds. They thumped down hard with every slow second that passed. Almost like _foot__steps_.

I turned around and stepped steadily back the way I came. The foot steps got louder as they increased in pace.

I went a bit faster, walking briskly on the carpeted floor. Again, they got faster.

I strided rapidly, my breath increasing with my feet. The foot steps followed, chilling me to the bone.

It was almost as if…_they __were __right __behind __me_.

_BAM!_

A sudden loud noise rocketed me back along the corridor at full speed. Hastily I found my door, rushed inside, and slammed it shut. Wanting nothing more than to get away from all the scariness of the hotel corridors, I fled to my bed and hid under my sheets. I heard faraway distant noises, of which terrified me, but I eventually grew tired and fell asleep.

* * *

><p>I was woken up in the middle of the night to the chime of a clock. Looking at the clock, it told me that it was exactly midnight. I crept up, wiping the sleep from my eyes, before glancing at the clock again. Midnight. The haunting hour. Oh, crap.<p>

I remained upright in my bed, rigid and stiff, my wide eyes shifting to where ever the slightest of noise positioned itself. It was at that point, I looked at _the __door_. No, not the door that led to the corridor, but _the_ _other_ _door_.

As if hypnotized with fear, I crept up; flinching at every creak I made on the floor boards, and gripped the handle. My fist clenched tightly. And I opened the door to find…

…just an ordinary bathroom. White tiled floors and walls, a toilet, a shower, and a door that probably led to another room. It was a shared ensuite bathroom. With a bath.

I sighed and moved away from the bathroom. That is, before something caught my eye.

I did a double take, shaking, I moved closer to the bath tub.

_Blood. Blood everywhere!_

Even worse was the figure of a person _still __in __the __bath__…_

I froze in fear.

The figure _twitched_.

And I screamed a loud high pitched scream that would have woken up any persons still asleep in the town, if they were alive that is.

I heard a scurry of sound coming from all around me. Thinking that it was ghosts, I rushed out of my room, out of the corridors, and into the town. My heart was racing wildly, and my eyes were wide with fear.

Unfortunately, running out into an abandoned town in the pitch black does nothing really to stem my fear. I ran about wildly, hallucinations of ghosts and monsters over taking my mind. In my rush, I tripped scratching myself. The sight of blood made me think back to my sight in the bath tub, and I rushed drunkenly towards the woods. I tripped again; more dirt and scratches covered my form. Blindly, I ran into the forest, sticks scratching my arms and face, eyes watering and blurring my vision.

Through all of this, a hand reached out and grabbed my arm. I cried out, and attempted to pull away though his vice-like grip ended up bruising my wrist. I kicked out, tripped the monster though he didn't let go and I fell to the ground too. My face bruised against the hard ground which I dragged it against to look upwards. My arm was positioned like it was chained behind my back, the monster would not let go. It's face was in a pile of leaves, and it was trying to say something.

"H-Hiraoka!"

_'Wait, isn't that Sasori's voice?_'

I turned around to face my captor, which indeed turned out to be my red-headed companion. He looked at me with shock echoed across his face, panting slightly (which I didn't think puppets could do).

It took me a while to realize my own appearance. I had wild hair knotted with leaves, dirt covering my torso. Scratches and bruises covered my arms, legs and I had a few on my face. My mouth was opened in fear and panting heavily. My eyes were the worst; they were wide open in shock and fear. They opened up all my emotions I had kept hidden away and locked up. And I felt something wet on my cheeks…oh, no. Was I _crying_?

There was no excuse for this. He had seen through my masquerade. It was over.

In this situation, however, my brain began to work and I thought back to a question I asked him when I was at home:

"_Do you have dreams?" I asked Sasori one day, my curiosity bubbling up inside me._

_Sasori looked at me condescendingly before replying._

"_Yes, even as a puppet I have dreams. They are always strange dreams, yet some what realistic, so I always end up waking up and wondering whether they actually happened…"_

_I nodded before moving on. He is sometimes so tedious…_

_'Why did I think back to that memo-…of course!'_ I thought, in my eureka moment. _'I can just get him to think that it was all a dream. It's so genius!'_

I stopped struggling and lay on the floor, panting my heart out. Letting my tears slide down my face, allowing myself to let it all out. Sasori stared at me, in confusion and shock, but let go of my wrist and sat beside me. He turned away from me.

"Are you afraid?"

I looked at him, and slowly stopped panting.

"Yes."

He looked back at me when I replied, and I (think I) saw through the dark, a pair of pained eyes.

And to my utter embarrassment, he lifted me up.

"H-hey, what are you doing?" I cried adamantly, so glad that I had a plan to go by.

He maneuvered me about in his, surprisingly, fleshy-feeling arms till he held me like a bride. Why, oh why, oh why…

I moved around in a flustered way, as he carried me back to the _dreaded_ hotel. I then knew what he was going to do. He was going to place me back in my room and ignore me.

"H-hey, don't put me back in that room!" I cried "There are _things_ moving about in there, and th-there's a _body __in __the __bath__tub!_"

"…body in the bath tub?" Sasori murmured thoughtfully.

"Y-yes!" I stuttered.

Sasori chuckled.

"You do realize that I put my puppet in there, right?"

My eyes widened.

"Yeah, well, w-what about all the blood?"

"Paint. Seemed the staff wanted to change the colour of the bath before they left. Did a bad job of it though…"

"E-even so, please don't take me back to my room! I c-can't…" I trailed off, hoping he'd get the picture and leave me in the woods.

Instead he stopped. He looked at me in a strange way.

"You are _very_ different from the normal Hiraoka-san."

I looked away, embarrassed. He was doing this on purpose now.

Even so, he continued towards the hotel, even with all my begging and pleading. However, when I got there, I was not in my own room. I was in his.

"Sleep here," he told me, motioning to the bed.

I laid down on the bed and pulled up the covers.

"What about you?" I questioned as I turned towards him.

At that point he decided to join me. In the bed.

"You won't be alone now, right?" he said with that horrible _smirk_ of his.

I glared at him.

"Pervert."

He chuckled just as my tiredness kicked in. I looked at his face with my sleepy eyes.

"You know, this _is_ just a dream."

Sasori moved closer, wrapping an arm around my waist. He had an…earthy sort of smell. It was familiar and comforting, helping my eyes to droop further into sleep.

"…I know…"

* * *

><p>The next morning I woke up to an unfortunate surprise. Sasori's face a few inches from my own. Cliché, I know. I stealthily moved away whilst he slept peacefully. Well, <em>rejuvenated<em> peacefully. Sneaking my way into the bathroom, I took a peak into his bath. He was right. Just a puppet and a botched paint job. All this trouble for nothing.

I took a shower, washing out all the dirt and leaves from my hair. I couldn't leave any evidence – it all had to appear that he just had a strange dream. This is _also_ why I spent about half an hour using medical ninjutsu on my scratches. No evidence.

As I returned to my own room, Sasori was waiting on my bed. He seemed slightly irritated, nothing new considering how impatient he is, though when I arrived he became visibly flustered.

_'It's probably because he **dreamed **about me_,' I thought smugly, as I exited the hotel with him.

We returned on our journey towards Sunagakure, though we camped out in the forest as there were no more abandoned villages. Lucky me.

Sasori remained thoughtful on the journey; it seemed as if he had something important on his mind; though I couldn't imagine what. However his thoughtful expression changed to that small _smirk_ whenever he glanced at me. Damn that pervert!

On the other hand, even though he was an arrogant, self-obsessed pervert, I couldn't help but start to enjoy his company.

And finally began to see his annoying _smirk_ as less of a _smirk. _And more of a _smile_.


	5. He seeps back through

Raccoon: Merry christmas, guys and girls! :)

Sasori: ...you are a bit late, you do realise that?

Raccoon: Your _face_ is a bit late!

Sasori: That doesn't even make sense. -_-'

Raccoon: Your _face_ doesn't even make sense!

Sasori: Raccoon doesn't own anything Naruto related. And she does not own my face.

Raccoon: Though many fan girls wish to...

* * *

><p>I kept staring back at her.<p>

I could _not_ comprehend that I _dreamed _about her. Strangely enough, it was one of the most realistic ones to date; I even found that I spent more hours 'sleeping' than I usually do. But it could _not_ have been real. Her personality was turned upside-down and inverted, her emotions smothered me with their power.

Not that I minded, to see her as a human _excited_ me. Where, or for what purpose, this excitement came from I do not know. But this emotion dazed me, and before I knew what I was doing I had placed her onto my bed. I'd like to say because I wanted a human teddy bear, but the fact was that I had zoned out and only realized what I had done _after_ I was in bed with her.

It was just a dream. But it was so realistic. And I still _cannot_ believe that I _dreamed_ of sharing the same bed with her.

Hiraoka-san then decided I was being too slow, and overtook me.

I was being ridiculous. Thinking over things too much. It was just a dream, it accounted for nothing. Everything is still the same between Hiraoka-san and I.

I stared at her to try and prove my point. Her dark golden strands swept with every softly-padded step that she took, her hips moved in a cat-like way so it was swaying her kimono up above her shapely legs, the pale skin of her neck glistened temptingly as I reached forward to-

I stopped suddenly. What was I _doing_? Admiring her again? Fascinated? Or could it be that I had turned back to my old ways, and I found myself desperately _wanting_ to turn her to _wood_…

Just as I shook myself out of my thoughts, Hiraoka-san turned around to stare at me.

"What's the matter with you? I thought you didn't like making people wait?"

"Yeah, it's nothing. Sorry," I replied quickly. She must think that I'm an _idiot_…

Hiraoka-san started to slow down and walk beside me. She eyed me; with curiosity or exasperation, she did not show. Her lips curved into a small frown as the scent of peaches entered my nose; it was only recently that I noticed that she used peach-scented shampoo. I concentrated on keeping upright, making sure that I didn't unconsciously move forward and sniff her hair.

"You're lying."

…did I see a flicker of a _smirk_?

'_No. That can't be so. And even if it was, what **could** she be smirking at? Does she know about my dream? Don't tell me that I talk in my sleep…'_

Shaking my thoughts away, I replied to her statement.

"I'm just wondering if there are any blue berry bushes around here. You look slightly hungry Hiraoka-san."

I did _not_ mean to come off as arrogant as I did. But this is Hiraoka-san we're talking about, so I'm pretty sure that she wouldn't mind. It is not like I'm _teasing_ her or anything.

Even so, her eyes narrowed at a molecular fraction, as she faced forward and walked in front of me again.

"No. I'm not too hungry."

Something hit me (metaphorically, not literally) as she turned her head back around. A small scratch mark, near her hair line on her cheek. She had not had any battles or falls today, and it looked quite recent. In fact, it looked like a mark that would be made from a _tree_ branch.

I realized that I was probably analyzing her in detail again, so I looked away and concentrated on the path ahead. Though I still held slight _suspicions_ about her…

We wandered further through the forest, I glanced at her occasionally. More specifically her hand. It was swinging backwards and forwards, with a tempting softness and warmth (not that I could feel the warmth, mind you, but it just _looked_ warm). I kept my hand to myself however. I'm sure that she'd not be the kind of woman who'd grab my hand and go skipping off into the woods.

Suddenly, she grabbed my hand and skipped forward.

Oh. Another blue berry bush. I guess she _was_ hungry…

As she was filling her mouth, a faint yet familiar smell filled my nostrils. The smell of clay…and burning. A face flashed in my mind as I thought further. I knew that smell.

I tensed, grabbing two scrolls from my cloak. I did _not_ want to have to deal with _him_, and if _he_ even _thinks_ about touching _her_…

I slight snarl erupted from my mouth, making Hisaoka-san glance up. I'm slowly turning back into my original ways…

But the smell was constant. A breezy yet distant smell that consumed the area. He was neither coming nor going. He was in the very air we breathed.

"What is it?" she questioned, noticing the scrolls that I had brought out.

'_Now that I think about it, it's a good thing that Hisaoka-san took me out of the cave as I was. If she had taken off my cloak, I wouldn't have any of my puppet scrolls…'_

"It's nothing," I replied while putting my scrolls away. _He _had gone. _He_ had been gone for a long time.

* * *

><p>As we moved further along towards our destination, the smell started to become stronger. Eventually, we reached an area where the grass and the plant life ended; where the land in front of us was a burnt and dead wreck. I instantly knew the cause.<p>

"What happened here?" wondered Hisaoka-san, slightly shocked.

"I think I know…" I told her as I strided across the land, unafraid.

Hisaoka-san followed me while looking at me questioningly.

"What?" she asked or demanded. I couldn't tell.

"An _explosion_."

"…that still doesn't quite cover my question…"

I put an arm in front of her, stopping her. I only just remembered what that _brat_ liked to perform on his battle ground.

"There are most likely landmines under the ground."

She gazed at me suspiciously.

"_How _do you know that?"

We carefully shuffled along the ground for a couple of minutes before I answered her question.

Lying on the floor was a tattered piece of cloth, black but with a red cloud shown on it. Next to the cloth lay a headband, an Iwagakure headband with a line going through it.

"An Akatsuki member. More specifically, my ex-partner, Deidara."

Realisation wiped over her face, though she turned to me with a slightly skeptical look.

"Partner?"

"Yes, we were split into twos in the org-"

I interrupted myself as I finally knew what she was asking.

"No! Not like _that_. I don't even know any _women_ who'd be interested in that _brat_!" (A/N: Heh. Irony.) My old tone of voice was returning again. I'm guessing that I'd be back to my old self within the time span of about a few months.

Even Hisaoka-san noticed.

"That's a new tone."

"Yes. That's what I was like before I died…"

She studied me before answering.

"In a few months, you'd probably be back to your old self."

"Most likely. Even a few _urges_ have been returning again."

A flicker of a smirk appeared on her face.

"What _kind_ of _urges_?"

"The urge to turn man into puppet. It's something that I called _art_ during my time in Akatsuki," I answered.

"Does it come often?"

"Not really. Only in the presence of someone really powerful, or someone really beauti-"

My cheeks flared red.

'_Someone really **beautiful**?'_

I think I might have been seeing things, but Hisaoka-san sniggered.

"You haven't been meeting many people lately; I _wonder_ who's been giving you these _urges_?"

She moved forward, probably to gain a closer look at my reaction, but she moved _very_ close. Her face was close up; her honey-coloured eyes and soft-looking lips in full view. If I was human, I could feel her breath on my face. Her peach shampoo drifted into my nose, as my head reeled.

I knew that if I stayed that close to her any longer, I was either going to faint or kiss her…

'_W-wait a minute? __**Kiss **__**her**__?'_

Was it more than admiration now? Was I sincerely _lusting_ after her?

Lust was a new emotion for me so I couldn't really tell if this was the case.

However, I knew that I needed to take a step back before I could test it out. And end up being utterly disappointed, knowing that I would not even be able to _feel_ it. This was probably the first time that I have ever truly regret turning myself into a puppet…

"You okay?"

I pulled out of my thoughts and took a couple of steps back. A trickle of pink covered my cheeks but it didn't show too much, thankfully.

The woman in question stared at me in confusion.

"What's wrong? You've been spacing out all day."

She was right. I _had_ been spacing out all day. All because I couldn't stop staring at her; all because I wanted to _own_ her. I wanted her skin to be _pine_. I wanted her to be _mine_. She's making me realize just how much I am changing back into my original self. But even so…I wonder how my original self would deal with the feeling of _lust_.

'…_It'll most likely be that by the time I recover, Hiraoka-san will be made of wood…'_

The thought made me shiver unconsciously. The 'me' now did not want Hiraoka-san to be made of anything other than what she was now. If she was a puppet she'd be…_unnatural_.

I was interrupted by the sound of a loud _'bang'_.

_**BANG! **_(A/N:Yes, I just had to put the sound effect in.)

It was an explosion. More specifically, a landmine.

The place where Hisaoka-san stood disappeared behind a veil of smoke.

And just like that, I panicked. She just _couldn't_ have died in an explosion. Not in Deidara's so-called _art_. Not even in _my_ art…

'_Though I have to admit, she would make an excellent specimen of **puppet**. I'd just have to take off that skin, **drain** her blood, put in some weapons…'_

I shook my head furiously.

Without allowing myself to think any longer, I dove after her amongst the slowly ascending smoke. Just as the smoke left so that I could see where she was, another landmine went off and more smoke filtered into the air.

I chased off after her, grabbing her just as she hit another landmine. I jumped away and rushed across the dead landscape with her in my arms. As we managed to reach the trees, I jumped up onto a branch and inspected her.

She coughed gently as she tried to drain the gas out of her system. Her legs and arms had burn marks covering them. They looked painful, but she seemed less pained and more annoyed.

"Your partner sure likes to set them off, doesn't he?"

…she didn't know the half of it…

She moved so that she was sitting on the branch, resting against the trunk. I sat down to join her.

"You want to rest here for the night?" I asked, staring at her injuries.

She shook her head.

"We really need to get on. We've almost hit the sand village. We could've been there by nightfall if you didn't keep stopping."

I felt guilty.

I really _had_ kept stopping just to admire her. Or _lust_ after her, as I've newly recognized. I should've just have ignored it and carried on, but now she's going to be _exhausted_ by the time we reach there. Plus…with the burn marks…

'_Tch. I __**hate**__ making people wait! But it's her **own** foolish fault that the mines hit her. She should've watched where she was going, the stupid **girl**!"_

I stood up suddenly, trying to rid my head of my previous self.

"Are you ready to get going now?" I asked her.

She nodded as she slowly got up, using the tree as a support.

Without my knowledge, I unconsciously glared at her. A seething, dangerous glare.

"Hurry up _girl_, I don't like to be kept _waiting_!"

Her eyes glanced up at mine, warily. I thought that she might be shocked, or afraid. But she nodded at me, as if she had known my true personality all along. As if she could see through this new personality that I now bore.

And with this ominous thought drifting through my head, we both jumped up and speeded towards the sand village. I noted that with every step she took on a branch, she winced through her teeth.

'_Hmph, the brat got what she deserved…'_

_..._

I just hoped that she wouldn't _hate _me for what I'd become.


End file.
